


Good Little Man

by red_smear



Series: Shitty Boy Corner [6]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Cunnilingus, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Explicit Consent, F/M, Femdom, Lifelong Kink Lessons From A Punisher Of The Wicked, M/M, Multi, No-Gag Zag Is Back And Sassier Than Ever, Orgasm Denial, Pegging, Spanking, Theseus Is SO INSECURE, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism, Voyeurism 2: Electric Boogaloo: The Reversening, Zag Is A Brat But We Knew This, Zag Is Horny For Meg Being Proud Of Him, everyone is bi, including yours truly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28272519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_smear/pseuds/red_smear
Summary: “The two of you can fuck against any wall you like.  You can play a little rough.  You can bring the bull into it if that’s what you want.  But you want to call on Lady Aphrodite and toy with him for hours?  No matter how much he likes it, you talk first and you follow the hell up.  Is that understood.”She addresses it to Theseus like a knife to the throat, and he nods again, rapidly.  Then the full force of her glare falls on Zagreus, who follows suit, feeling both recalcitrant and terribly horny.“...Alright,” says Meg.  “Then I think it’s time we had a little practical demonstration."
Relationships: Asterius | The Minotaur/Theseus (Hades Video Game), Megaera/Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Megaera/Theseus (Hades Video Game), Megaera/Theseus/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Megaera/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Theseus/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Series: Shitty Boy Corner [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010508
Comments: 55
Kudos: 287





	Good Little Man

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this alongside the previous one, and along with my Christmas PTO free time came the urge to polish it off! The longest SBC installment to date! I never expected this to turn into an ensemble, but I have to say I'm enjoying it. I feel a little embarrassed sometimes about how all of these seem to share the same few tags, even when the scenario varies, but--if you're here you're probably happy to see Orgasm Denial at the top of every fic so let's just lean into it I guess.  
> Some research was done for this, but it's still by no means a comprehensive kink education--not that I think anyone expected it to be, but I'm just saying again, several grains of salt. I'm playing a little fast and loose for the sake of flow and horniness. The point is, Theseus set the bar very low so he can only improve from here.

“He will.”

“He won’t.”

“He _will_ , Asterius.”

“He will not.”

“I am telling you--ah, here he comes now. Shall I test it, then?”

“What are the two of you whispering about over there? I’m in a hurry, you know! Let’s fight, already!”

 _“Ahem--_ what are you, filth?!”

“A stain upon Elysium, s-- _Uh--_ ”

“There, you see? Did I not tell you?”

_“You--!”_

“King, look out.”

“Look out for what AUGH--”

\--

At first, Zagreus had hoped they could do this back at the House--at last, he’d have a home turf advantage over Theseus. He was quickly reminded, however, of what a terrible idea that would be. How shades must be authorized to enter the House, which would involve going through his father, and how extremely difficult it would be to sneak Theseus into his bedroom besides. And so here he is again in the king’s chambers, sweating as though he were in Asphodel. Meg has finished inspecting their surroundings (Theseus attempted to give her a tour, and was rebuffed with such chilly silence that he retreated to sulk in a corner), and now they’re gathered in an awkward triangle by the bed, where Meg laid out her supplies.

Zagreus had, for lack of a better term, gotten used to Theseus. Not that he became any less irritating--in fact, he has managed impressively to become _more_ irritating with each tryst. But for a while it was all private and safe, and the shame had begun to fade to a pleasantly titillating background buzz. There were two worlds: one with Than and Meg, and one with (unfortunately) King Theseus, occasionally accompanied by Asterius. And neither needed to know much about the other.

Now those two worlds have collided. Now he’s standing under Meg’s watchful gaze, and remembering everything he’s ever let Theseus do to him in the heat of the moment, and imagining her imagining them, and if any god out there felt the sudden urge to smite him down, he _wouldn’t say no._

Theseus clears his throat, blessedly breaking the silence, and says, “I hope everything is to your liking, Lady Megaera!” so loudly that even Meg leans away a hair’s breadth. Zagreus can _see_ the king trying to project confidence, his chest puffed out, his hands planted dashingly on his hips. There’s a certain forced quality to his smile, however, that completely ruins it. Not that he can blame Theseus for his fussing, with one of Meg’s hands resting unthinkingly on the handle of her whip.

“Theseus. You’ve been playing with our Zag for a while now,” says Meg, because Meg just sometimes says things like that casually, in spite of (because of) the way it knocks all the air from Zagreus’ lungs.

“I--” Theseus looks to Zagreus, as though seeking reassurance. Zagreus widens his eyes and tips his head to Meg-- _Just answer_. Theseus swallows. “Yes, I-I have been doing that. Indeed.”

“Mm. I’m sure he’s been better for you than you deserve,” says Meg. “I’m sure you thought you were a natural. You’re not.” She turns one fierce golden eye on Zagreus, looking almost protective. “Zag is.”

“Well--you were a good teacher,” Zagreus offers, awash in love and fierce pride and terrible embarrassment. He wants very badly to kiss her. Meg’s mouth twitches just a fraction, in a way that indicates she might be feeling the same.

“...Yes. Well.” And then she pins Theseus with her gaze again, and the little whisper of a smile is gone. “You'll have some idea by now what works best on him. But did you know he’ll forget to drink water if not reminded? That he likes being whipped, but not caned? That he hates being called _boy?_ You didn’t, and he wouldn’t have told you, because he likes to _keep things casual_. But one day you would’ve found out the hard way. And I won’t accept that. Not for our Zag.”

“S-such attentiveness,” says Theseus, his grin stretching wider. Despite the tension, Zagreus has to fight back a laugh. It is satisfying, he’ll admit, to see the king in such a state.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Theseus pauses, eyes wide, glances again in Zagreus’ direction. “I--well, Lord Thanatos...expressed some concern, when he stumbled upon--that is to say-- But he was quite well, the fiend--” He fumbles the word, panicky. “I mean-- _Zagreus_ \--”

“He collapsed,” Meg says.

“I didn’t,” Zagreus objects. “I just--fell unconscious for a moment. You can’t collapse unless you’re standing up.”

She gives him a look.

“...Sorry, Meg.”

Meg sighs through her nose. “Right. How to explain this… You’re human,” she says to Theseus, as though it’s only just occurring to her. He nods, bewildered. “When a human drunkard goes without wine for a while, what happens?”

“They...become most miserable and easily-irritated,” says Theseus, contriving to be both loud and hesitant at once. “Not that _I_ ever--”

“Hush,” says Meg. He hushes. “You make someone drunk on pleasure, and for a short while after they’ll be miserable without. Simple as that.”

Zagreus feels compelled once again to defend himself, if only to cast a better light on his own terrible choices. “I wasn’t miserable!”

“It varies,” Meg half-concedes, eyeing him. “Some become maudlin, or withdraw. Zag sleeps like a rock and sulks. Becomes all rude and mopey unless he’s plied with food, drink, and company.” (Zagreus splutters, but he can’t argue, and anyway she said it so fondly...) “What I’m trying to say is: he requires _attention_ , in the aftermath. And during. And before. Unless you want it to hit him harder.”

Zagreus tries to picture himself lying nestled in the arms of King Theseus, exchanging fond kisses as he recuperates from a punishing session. It’s appalling. “From _him?_ Meg--”

“Hush,” says Meg. He hushes. “The two of you can fuck against any wall you like. You can play a little rough. You can bring the bull into it if that’s what you want. But you want to call on Lady Aphrodite and toy with him for hours? No matter how much he likes it, you talk first and you _follow the hell up._ Is that _understood._ ”

She addresses it to Theseus like a knife to the throat, and he nods again, rapidly. Then the full force of her glare falls on Zagreus, who follows suit, feeling both recalcitrant and terribly horny.

“...Alright,” says Meg. “Then I think it’s time we had a little practical demonstration. If everyone agrees to it.”

 _“Ngh,”_ says Zagreus.

Meg doesn’t look at him, but her mouth quirks up and stays there. “Use your words, little man.”

“ _Yes,_ Meg.”

“Good. And you, Champion?”

\--

Theseus watches with blank, confused lust as Megaera binds the daemon. He’d been surprised at her asking--had thought his interest obvious. But she’d waited, silent and watchful, her eyes compelling him to answer honestly, and eventually the desire thrumming in his breast had risen to his lips.

He’d expected her to pounce on the daemon at once, but instead they’d talked, at length. He knows, now, what each of them will and won’t stand for, in excruciating detail. He’s listened to the daemon snap his fingers repeatedly, until each signal is ingrained in his mind. He knows he’s not to touch himself without her permission, and will remember the daemon’s vengeful smirk for some time to come (how much of their exploits has he _told_ her?!).

And then she’d asked them whether they would submit to the depravities she had planned--seeking assent for each one as though mercilessly turning a winch, until both he and the daemon were wound unbearably tight with anticipation. The consequence being that Theseus sits here now, knowing all that she intends, every perverse use she has for the fiend.

He almost can’t breathe.

“Look at how he moves into position for me,” says the Fury. “That comes with experience. He trusts me, because he knows I’ll take care of him. I use soft rope. I don’t tie him too tight. I don’t leave him bound for too long. That’s experience, too.” She pauses, somehow seeming to glare at Theseus without turning around. “...I wouldn’t recommend doing anything complex without _practice._ ”

“Mm,” says Theseus, trying to imply with the sound that he would not have, and did not need to be told. He thought it at least somewhat convincing, but she _chuckles_ , like the soft scrape of a blade on stone. A shiver runs down his spine, and he sees it twinned in the daemon, who’s staring up at his mistress with quiet adoration. He moves with her as Theseus moves with his bull in battle, anticipating her movements, matching her breaths. They are aligned in grace like a pair of dancers. Theseus understands this intimately, and thus, feeling this momentary kinship, perhaps it is strange and ungenerous to also be outraged.

But kinship or no: is this some jest?! How did he offend the Fates, that they tempt him thus with a truculent, impertinent, unfortunately fetching fiend?! He was meant to spend his afterlife in glorious battle alongside Asterius, his days or nights unmarred by mortal suffering, and yet apparently he must be drawn to his disgusting foe, who will seemingly submit with ease to anyone _but_ him! Oh, it galls!

“...Alright, there, king?” says the daemon. Theseus realizes he’s been making furious eye contact for a solid minute, and sits back, clearing his throat.

“--Quite alright, fiend! Simply--thinking on what fresh challenges I might contrive for you, after this!”

“Well, don’t,” says the Fury, and Theseus turns his eyes on her just in time to watch her remove the last of her clothes. Oh. “Focus. If you’re not listening, there’s no point to any of this.”

Theseus can’t help staring, taking in the statuesque angles of bone, the leonine sinew, the swell of her breasts and muscle of her thighs. She stands tall--perhaps almost as tall as Asterius--her single, webbed wing flaring behind her, looking every inch the goddess and punisher she is.

Lady Megaera stares back with not an ounce of regard for him and says again, _“Focus.”_

“Hh,” says Theseus, and feels more blood rushing between his thighs, and tries not to think about it. He realizes, suddenly, that he’s seated on the self-same hassock that the daemon occupied when he witnessed Asterius in action, all those days or nights ago. Cruel Fates, again, that the situation should be thus reversed. Such humiliation was surely intended only for those deserving of it, _gia paradeigma_ the daemon Zagreus.

That very daemon, now lying on his belly with his ankles and wrists artfully tethered to his thighs, somehow looks anything _but_ humiliated. Rather, he seems transported by excitement as his mistress opens her legs for him. Theseus, who had thought her wholly unaffected by the atmosphere in the room, suddenly notices the way her flesh glistens in the low light. So must the daemon, because he licks his lips in a familiar gesture of readiness.

The Fury smiles. “Zag. You know what to do.”

“Yes, Meg,” says the daemon breathlessly, and presses a slow, worshipful kiss to her inner thigh.

“You must have noticed how good he is at this,” Megaera remarks to Theseus, playing idly with the daemon’s hair as he works his way closer to her. “He knows how to listen and feel out what things work best. He learned what I like and doesn’t press harder unless I say so-- _ah,_ and--you shouldn’t take it for granted...if he’s been good, anyway-- _mm…_ There, Zag...”

The daemon hums and obediently redoubles his efforts. Theseus finds that unbidden memories spring to mind at the sight--of that very mouth on _his_ body, the hellish magic it’s worked on him. He fights them back, folding his arms staunchly over his chest. If the daemon could wait for Asterius’ order, then by the _gods_ he will wait as well, and be less pathetic about it for good measure.

“If he can’t, _hmm,_ breathe, or something’s gone wrong, he--he can always...tell me,” Megaera murmurs. “And I’ll stop no, _hhh,_ no matter how...how close I am…” One of her legs has fallen carelessly over the edge of the bed, giving Theseus an ample view of the daemon and his dinner. His chin is dripping, muscles in his neck working rhythmically, accompanied by small, wet noises.

“Zag. Stop me.”

The fiend groans reluctantly, pressing deeper into her, his eyes fluttering shut. Theseus doesn’t miss the Fury’s hitching breath, nor her silent snarl of exasperation. Still, her voice remains rock-steady. _“What did I say, Zag.”_

He snaps his fingers, once, and she pulls away immediately, leaving his face a shining mess. “There. Good.”

“More, please,” says the daemon, instantly. His eyes flash for a split second to Theseus, burning with a surprising light. This, again, Theseus understands at once, much as he hates to admit it. He will not soon forget how ardently he wished to please Asterius, with their hated audience close by. Never will their competition be confined to the battlefield, it seems.

Megaera narrows her eyes, but can’t seem to restrain a faint, fearsome grin. “Go on, then.” And she presses him back into her with both hands. He snaps _yes_ three times over, and she claws at the back of his neck, making him shudder. “Focus, little man-- _ah_ \--!”

The daemon’s skill with his mouth is undeniable. Within what seems like moments, he has her arched back, shaking the bed as she grinds against his eager tongue. Theseus never once imagined that his afterlife would involve watching one of the Furies come on his bed, and at the moment he still hasn’t let go of the possibility that this is some kind of bizarre wet dream. Any second he’s going to wake up and have to answer some very uncomfortable questions from Asterius.

She doesn’t scream or whimper the peak of her pleasure, only lets loose a fervent groan, rough and ragged as her wing flutters, stretched out behind her. Her thighs close on the dark, shaggy head between them, and the daemon shudders all over, humping the blankets beneath him with no dignity whatsoever. _Those cost money,_ Theseus wants to say, but he’s too busy trying not to touch himself.

\--

Meg cleans his face before they move on. Zagreus wouldn’t have minded leaving it, but what Meg says goes, and at any rate he likes it when she takes care of him.

“Ropes alright?” she asks, as she finishes scrubbing. Zagreus snaps _yes_ , and she ruffles his hair.

“Then let’s make you...a little less comfortable.”

He still hasn’t come, but the faint, sadistic edge to her voice brings him just that little bit closer. “Please..."

“ _Hmph._ Champion, are you watching? For discipline you should use your hand, not a tool. Zag. Over my knees.”

She likes to do this--tie him up and ask him to get in position on his own--and with much struggling and writhing, sometimes he manages it. Others, she’ll eventually take pity and move him herself, with ease belied even by her muscled figure. This shouldn’t be too hard, though--seems she’s going easy on him. For now.

Theseus looks bewildered. “You...I thought you might...your whip...”

Meg glances over at it, lying like a threat on top of her discarded clothes. “Are _you_ going to whip him?”

“Well--perhaps not--”

“You’re not,” says Meg matter-of-factly, as Zagreus situates himself across her lap with a grunt. Hips in the air, face pressed to the mattress. “And you shouldn’t. Good, Zag. You’ll want to feel how hard you’re striking him. Use a hand, here.” A light tap lands across Zagreus’ buttocks, almost a mockery of the level of force he’s used to.

“I...don’t understand why I should wish to strike him thus.”

“Don’t you?” says Meg, and something about her tone makes Zagreus squirm. “Well. Just in case he does something infuriating and the mood...hits you...you should know how. And you should start light.”

Zagreus twists to look over his shoulder, making a complaining noise, and she cocks an eyebrow at him. “You have something to say?”

“You don’t _start light,_ ” he says, and then, penitent, “Er. Meg.”

“That’s because I know how hard is too hard,” she says, and her hand snaps into him with a sharp, biting sting. Zagreus’ legs go stiff, his eyes wide, his mouth stretching open in a piteous gasp.

“That’s as much as he can take, to start,” she says, massaging him with a cool, calloused palm. The pain blooms, dulls, becomes a hot throb that tugs at his gut. “Isn’t that right, Zag?”

“Yes,” he pants.

“I can go harder,” she says, mercilessly. “And so can your king there, I'd guess.”

He bites his lip, wanting to say yes but knowing better. “No, thank you, Meg.”

“Good. You see? He knows his limits...when nudged.” She lands a hit on the other side, a little softer now, but still hard enough to knock another cry from him. Zagreus thinks longingly of thrusting between her thighs, but knows better than to let his hips drop now. Instead he buries his face in the blankets, moaning for her, certain she can see his blush spreading down the nape of his neck. Meg laughs--at him, he thinks at first, but then-- 

“Have a look at your king, Zag.”

 _Your king_ \--she says it somehow in the opposite way of Asterius, casual and dismissive. The thought puts a little smile on Zagreus’ face as he turns his head, squinting sideways at Theseus. The king's face is bright red, creased with a mixture of nerves and rapt fascination.

“I think he’s starting to see the appeal,” says Meg, kneading his ass again. “What do you think, Zag?”

“I think-- _aah!”_

“Do you think he could come up with something to punish you for?”

“ _Haha!_ Yes, _a-aahh_ \--”

“Should we give him a turn right now?”

Zagreus freezes, then cries out again as a fresh blow lands. He moans aloud, never breaking eye contact with Theseus. As usual, he can’t tell whether he’s trying to challenge the king or invite him closer. As usual, he suspects it’s a little of both.

“Come here,” says Meg, and Theseus rises at once, trying self-consciously to smooth his tunic. The bulge underneath is unfortunately unsmoothable.

“Touch him, first,” she instructs, as Theseus comes level with them. “Feel it out. The tighter the skin is, the more it’s going to sting. That means you can use more force when he’s standing than when he’s bent over like this.”

“I--see,” says Theseus, and his hand joins Meg’s, blessedly cool. Zagreus can’t help the sigh that presses itself from his lungs--nor the mortification that follows. Theseus actually laughs a little at that, though his voice is light with nerves. 

“Blowhard,” snaps Zagreus, heat flowing to his cheeks. And between his legs. _Dammit._

Behind him, Meg shifts ever so slightly. The sound of a bottle being unstoppered reaches his ears. “Zag...you belong to both of us right now. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I--yes, Meg, I’m just-- He’s--” Zagreus gives up and buries his face in the covers with a growl, knowing how pathetic he must sound.

“It’s alright.” She strokes his back, and the tenderness of it makes his stomach tighten eagerly--she’s always so gentle before she gets rough again. “You can complain as much as you want, Zag. Go ahead. Tell him just what you think of him. If you want to take the consequences.”

“Yes, fiend,” says Theseus, his voice tight with barely-restrained glee, “let me hear your customary insults!”

It’s _infuriating_ to hear him chiming in with Meg--even more so, to remember everything Zagreus has let that stupid voice seduce him into. Even more so than that, how breathtakingly turned on he is by it all.

 _“Bastard,”_ he mumbles. The pause that follows must surely be Meg wordlessly instructing Theseus--the dry, necessary mechanics of a good slap. But without his eyes on them, Zagreus can only feel the tension of waiting, stretched thin over the silence.

Theseus’ hand leaves his skin for a breathless moment, then returns with vigorous impact. It’s not even that painful--he’s starting light, just as Meg told him--but after such a long wait Zagreus can’t help twitching all the same, uttering a little _mph!_ into the covers.

“You liked it that much, did you, daemon?”

Zagreus can _hear_ him getting comfortable in the role, hates that this is being allowed and that he, cursedly, is the one allowing it. “So full of yourself,” he pants. “All talk and no-- _ngh!”_

“Good,” says Meg, a note of actual approval in her voice. Unfair. “When his thighs aren’t tied, he likes it there, too. He looks beautiful, all marked up. Don’t you, Zag?”

Zagreus inhales to say something, to that, and then forgets all about it at the sensation of oil trickling down his cleft. Meg’s fingers follow soon after, pressing little gasps out of him as she circles his entrance.

“...What, Zag? Were you going to apologize to our guest, maybe?”

“I am a king, after all.” Theseus’ hand, still resting where it landed, squeezes appreciatively. “I cannot allow such disrespect to stand.”

“That’s right, Zag,” says Meg, the faintest tinge of mock-serious amusement creeping into her voice. “We can’t have you being rude to a king.”

“Then perhaps the king should stop being so obnox-- _aah!!_ Oh-- _hahhh…”_

They’re taking turns, he realizes--Meg working him open in between smacks. She doesn’t object to Theseus touching him elsewhere, either--running his hands over Zagreus’ bound legs and down his arched back, delighting in every annoyed twitch and grunt. His fingers even reach Zagreus’ face at one point, brushing over his lips. Zagreus snaps at them half-heartedly, earning himself another punishing slap. And then Meg’s fingers slip inside him, and it’s starting to get harder to feel that smoldering indignation. Gods, _fine_ , whatever he has to say to come--

Meg seems to sense his change of heart, as is her inclination. “...Feeling a little remorse, Zag?”

He nods, noticing distantly that he’s drooling onto the bed. Meg’s hand leaves him; she moves away, the bed creaking under her, and he hears the familiar clink of the buckles on her harness.

“Oh, gods, yes, Meg _please--”_

“Not until you tell us how sorry you are,” she calls, somewhere to his left. In her absence, Theseus slides a finger inside him, finding the right spot and pressing-- _bastard--!_

“I--” Zagreus chokes for a moment on a fresh pang of combined pleasure and outrage, then manages, “I’m--sorry, king. _Mmh--_ I--shouldn’t have--insulted you, _oh..._ ”

“Hah! Well, then--”

“Wait,” says Meg, her voice like a whip crack. Both of them freeze, Theseus with one finger still inside him. “Is that what he calls you, Champion?”

 _“Meg,”_ Zagreus whines. Gods, he wouldn’t have told her so much if he’d known she’d use it against him. (He would have.)

“Thank you, Lady Megaera,” says Theseus, simpering in the same way he does for his beloved crowd. “You remind me so deftly--that is not how I prefer he address me.”

“Sir,” says Zagreus quickly, then moans as Theseus’ hand claps against him again. His body is burning, tingling. The feeling means discipline, means he is marked, used, and owned. At last, gladly, he surrenders to it. “ _Aa-aaahh,_ sir I apologize, I-- _hh!_ \--shouldn't h-have--it was disrespectful of me, _oh_ , I'm sorry-- _nnh please_ \--”

“Good monster!” comes the familiar praise, and Zagreus responds _“Thank you sir”_ before he can think otherwise.

“Zag told me this one is about as big as you,” says Meg. He can feel her moving, the mattress sinking as she circles around behind him. “He also told me you’re quite good with yours. Well…” He can hear the grin in her voice, can imagine the look on her face, feels himself throb for her. “Let’s see if I can do better with it, hm? Back to your seat, Champion.”

Theseus hesitates, but like every other denizen of the underworld knows better than to question one of the Erinyes. “Ah…er. Yes. Lady Megaera.”

“Good.”

Zagreus feels strong hands on his hips, lifting him, shifting him around. He doesn't understand until he finds himself with an unimpeded view of Theseus. The king has crossed his arms and legs and is breathing as though he just ran a marathon. They lock eyes. Zagreus feels Meg spread him open. Slick blunt metal on his skin, lining up to enter him. He whimpers, arching up even though his body is starting to tire and ache. Theseus squirms in his seat.

“Well, Zag, what do you say?”

“I--Meg please...”

Meg drags her nails down his left buttock, burning the tender skin, making his eyes water. “Please what?”

 _“Please I want you,”_ he cries, as loudly as he can. _“Please fuck me!”_

And she does.

Zagreus doesn’t mind being carelessly used; a little artlessness is forgivable, so long as it’s done with a certain attitude (to wit: fast and hard). But Meg’s work is...something special. She’d said, once, with a rare teasing smile, that she perfected her technique on Aphrodite. Her tone was half-joking but Zagreus believes it, wholeheartedly. It’s transcendent--the way she works him open, the angle of her hips, how she changes the rhythm every time it seems he might grow used to it. He’s taken _notes_ on it, in the past--and to great effect, if Than is to be believed. He prays Theseus is doing the same.

“Is he better than me?” asks Meg, reading his mind again.

 _“No,”_ Zagreus groans. The king is a blurry, insignificant afterthought, even as they hold eye contact.

“Who fucks you best, Zag?”

 _“You--do--Meg!_ Uhn-!”

\--

Theseus can barely take issue with the comparison. Every few seconds, it seems, his mind springs longingly to the thought of disobeying the Fury, and damn the consequences. How bad can it be? He’s the Champion of Elysium, surely she can’t have him moved to Tartarus for--for pleasuring himself against her orders!

And then he remembers Asterius commenting on the daemon’s stamina, and his own indignant response that he could last twice as long, and-- _ugh_ \--

Theseus endures. He endures every filthy sound out of the daemon’s mouth, and the rapturous look on his face, and watching him throw himself back onto the Fury’s metal cock as though he’s paid for it. He endures watching the daemon rutting furiously against her hand and saying her nameover and over. He endures the sight of Lady Megaera bringing herself to a second climax with a few expert strokes of one hand. By the time she unbinds the daemon, massaging his red-marked limbs until they loosen, Theseus feels he’s passed through the worst of it into a realm of perfect, torturous clarity.

“This part is important,” says Megaera, holding a glass tub aloft for his inspection. “I’ll leave you with this container--I can get my hands on more. I should have done this before we began, as well. We...went a little harder on him than I expected.”

It’s a cream of some kind, which she smears with surpassing care on the fiend’s raw, reddened buttocks. It must soothe and soften the skin--perfectly reasonable and functional--but in his current state he cannot view the action with anything but consuming lust. The daemon’s rump is horribly, unforgivably pleasing to the eye and he, too, wishes to lay his hands on it again. It would be so _easy_ to enter him now...a sensation Theseus remembers all too well, with intense envy for his past self.

“Are you listening?”

 _“Hhh,”_ says Theseus, pitifully. At last, at long last, her eyes find his poor, neglected cock, and she raises her eyebrows as though she’d forgotten it was there.

“Take care of that,” she says, her voice dispassionate though her face glows with sweat and lingering desire.

Theseus looks longingly to the daemon. “I--may I not--”

“You may not,” she says, and then bares sharp white teeth in a half-smile that makes his toes curl. “But…if you need the help…”

She makes her way over to him, fully nude and terribly tall, looming like a bad omen. Lifts one leg and plants a bare foot on his thigh, gazing down at him. Her voice is barely a whisper but it seems to flow across his skin like a snake. “I see through you, Theseus. Would you like to know what I see?”

Again she waits for the answer, forcing him to say it aloud, one way or the other. Theseus feels stripped bare. He has asserted his superiority over the daemon, delighted in dragging him about and tormenting him, carelessly having his way. Only now does he see that he merely played at dominance.

Now he faces a professional.

“Y...yes...Lady Megaera,” he manages at last, his voice cracking in a most unkingly way. Tremulously, he reaches between his legs. Her eyes catch on the motion, and he pauses, waiting in desperate anxiety. She waits long enough to make him sweat and then, with a nod, she allows it. Relieved and embarrassed in equal measure, intensely conscious of her eyes, Theseus touches himself at last.

“You thirst for attention,” she says. Her voice coils around him. Theseus shuts his eyes as shame washes over him, hot and beguiling. “Any at all, wherever you can find it. Everything about you pleads for it--that gaudy golden mask, your titles. _King, Champion..._ all that boasting and shouting...and under it all, a little man who would open his legs for anyone in Elysium if it would make them like him.”

Theseus writhes, thrusting helplessly into his hand, shocked at his own arousal--”Oh-- _ah--y-yes, I--”_

“Look at me,” she says, and he does, licking his lips, feeling like the filthiest sinner in the pits of Tartarus and knowing he deserves it. She smiles again, her lip curling into half a sneer; her toes flex, gripping at the flesh of his thigh. She’d never touch him with her hands, he knows it, _gods--_ “Pathetic. Aren’t you?”

He nods in little jerks, burning under her gaze. “Yes--”

“If all the heroes of Elysium could see you like this...” She tuts disapprovingly, and Theseus groans, imagining the eyes of history’s greatest warriors watching him, judging him. He raises his free hand to his chest, fingers closing blindly on one nipple, pinching and rolling. The Fury leans closer, eyebrows raised. “Look at you. Pawing at yourself. Did you like the thought that much?”

 _“Mm!”_ Theseus sinks deeper into the imagined debauchery-- _some champion--see how he squirms--listen to him moan--_

“That’s it,” says the Fury, softly. “Now, we have Zag to attend to, don’t we?”

Theseus nods wordlessly, staring dizzily up at her. He feels corrupted, ruined, and hardly cares--he’s so _close_ \--

“Then don’t waste any more of my time,” she says. “Come.”

He does, as though her voice commands his body, as though his body belongs to her. He milks the moment for as long as he can, clinging dearly to the fantasy he hadn’t even known would do this to him. 

When he comes back to himself, panting and loose-limbed, she’s still standing over him. There’s a hard frown on her face, though Theseus thinks her disapproval seems to have turned inwards this time. Strange.

“...Lady Megaera?” he tries.

“Mm.” She removes her foot from his leg, leaving a print that turns pale and then flushes--his shade body remembering the blood that flowed through it in life. “I...didn’t plan for that.”

“It was…” Theseus struggles for the word. “I mean to say, I was...well…I quite--enjoyed--”

“You liked it, yes, I know. That isn’t the point.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I think I’m beginning to understand Zag’s little fixation with you. You...encourage spontaneity.”

Theseus is still trying frantically to work out whether this is a good thing or a bad thing when she retreats to the bed, gesturing for him. “Here.”

“I refuse to hold him to me like a lover,” says Theseus, still poleaxed by everything that just happened. “He’s detestable to me.”

“Just _come here_.” She settles down next to the daemon, brushing hair back from his dazed, smiling face with shocking fondness. Theseus approaches against his better judgment, grimacing at the sight. “Be--whatever’s normal, for the two of you. You can do that.”

“I...perhaps.” Gingerly, Theseus settles near them, propping up his torso on a heap of pillows. Below him on the bed, the daemon twines an arm around Megaera’s waist and sleepily buries his face in her cleavage. Shockingly, she indulges this, and turns her attention back to Theseus.

“You could imagine it as...wrestling,” she says. “That’s...something you do here, yes? So. You don’t need to...‘hold him like a lover’.”

Theseus senses something like discomfort from her. She’s a goddess, after all. Even he, king of Elysium, could not deny to her face that he is beneath her. And yet here she is, offering him advice with an eye to his comfort. Theseus would ask why, but even he can tell the reason is lying between them.

How the daemon earned the affections of such a fearsome figure is beyond him.

“I understand...my lady. But, I must tell you-- I mean to say, I--Lord Hades has commanded me to do battle with this…’Zagreus’.” He winces at the faint tremble in his own voice. “My noble heart compels me, and--on my honor--”

“Oh, I understand.” She laughs again, that blade-on-stone chuckle. “You do your best, King Theseus. You’ll hear no complaints from me. It’s fun, isn’t it? Fighting him.”

Theseus opens his mouth to say _Not at all, it is merely my sacred duty to defend great Elysium from intruders_ , and then remembers her descending from on high just in time to see him laughing wildly astride the Macedonian. Her expression tells him she also recalls this. 

“...Perhaps,” he says again, reluctantly.

She rolls her eyes, and pulling the daemon closer, she swings one muscular blue thigh over his hip. Her wing stretches over Theseus as well, and though he at first feels both unnerved and condescended to, he can’t help remembering Asterius, folding his arm around the daemon. Asterius would surely wish him to be magnanimous, in this moment. Theseus tries to relax.

“Think about what I said,” says the Fury.

“Er...which--”

“All of it,” she says, stern but sleepy. And then, an afterthought, “You have baths, here? Let’s bathe, after this. Bring your bull.”

\--

There are baths in Elysium. They laze about awkwardly for a while, Theseus and the daemon glaring at each other while Megaera makes surprisingly natural small talk with Asterius. Eventually Death Himself appears again (something Theseus is _not_ going to grow accustomed to) and whisks his partners away, asking don’t they know he’s busy and how did it go and are they feeling alright. It’s all quite surreal.

For a long while after, Theseus and Asterius linger in the hot water together, at first grooming each other and then sitting in simple companionship. Despite the timelessness of the afterlife, there is something about this moment that has the unmistakable air of a late night. Theseus knows that weariness is only an illusion his shade body presents him with, and yet…

He sighs, leans against Asterius’ shoulder and says, “It was _humiliating_ , friend Asterius.”

“So you have said,” replies Asterius. “...Thrice, now.”

“Because there was much humiliation to remark upon!” Theseus protests, wounded.

“And yet you have not told me much of it.” Asterius gives him an unreadable look. “Was it so terrible?"

“It--” Theseus pauses. He must speak of it to _someone_ , otherwise he might surely burst from it all. There is no better confidant than Asterius, and...they are alone, after all...

“It would seem,” he says, picking his words as he goes, “that...regarding the daemon...much work was done for us.”

Asterius snorts. “Are you concerned?”

“I--well, I mean to say…” Theseus fidgets, trying to put words around it all. “He is...different, in other company. Under...masters other than me.”

“Mm. Do you wish he would love you?”

“Eurgh--no!” says Theseus emphatically, and feels the truth of it in his soul. He would accept neither romance nor companionship from the daemon, and surely nor would “Zagreus” from him. Still, this strange unease persists...

Asterius gives him a long, bemused look. “King. Theseus. Do you worry he does not...prefer you, in bed?”

This time, the words strike home like an arrow. Could it be true? It must be, or he would not feel such cursed inferiority, hearing it. “--Perhaps,” Theseus replies, plaintive and sullen. “After all-- _ugh_ \--it _chafes_ to admit… I desire him most savagely, Asterius! Carnally!! Would that I did not, but as you know, I do! Yet he is ever _difficult_ with me, and never with the Lady Megaera, or with _Thanatos_ , apparently--why, not even with you!”

“He is desirous of you,” says Asterius, bluntly. “He must be. He has lain with you many times now.”

Theseus glowers mournfully up at him. “Pah! He has his Fury--you were not there, you did not see her in action! I must be some--stop-gap measure he comes to when she is otherwise occupied!” He sniffs, feeling somehow both betrayed and intrigued by the thought. “...Whorish creature.”

“Forgive me, king, but the very fact that he comes to you at all...makes your concerns seem unfounded, to me.”

“I cannot see how!”

Asterius places a heavy arm about his shoulders, reassuring in its weight. “The other two--he delights in their presence. And he and I have an understanding, a respect. Meanwhile, as you said, he is your loathed enemy--”

“This reassures me not a bit.”

“ _Patience_ , king-- He is your loathed enemy, yet again and again, he sets aside his own dislike to submit and please you. Is it not all the better, to know he does so despite his misgivings?” Asterius lowers his muzzle to Theseus’ ear, pulling him in closer with that broad, powerful hand. “...He must enjoy your attentions greatly.”

“Hm,” says Theseus, letting himself be a little swayed at last. In fact, the more he turns the concept over in his mind, the less fault he finds in Asterius’ reason, and the more he likes the view presented to him. “You make a compelling argument, friend Asterius.”

The bull snorts. “Good. As for myself, I cannot see how anyone would not desire you.”

Theseus slicks his hair back with a wet hand, shooting him a winning smile. “Ah--my thanks, friend Asterius! Nor I you!”

Asterius has long since learned not to argue with him on this count, and only snorts, moving on from the topic. “The Fury,” he says. “You speak as though she impressed you greatly. You...enjoyed your time, after all?”

Theseus licks his lips, remembering the fiend bound, the fiend tamed and punished, the fiend ecstatic as she took him from behind. And then, another rush of memories: the foot on his thigh, _pathetic aren’t you_ , how readily humiliation turned to pleasure--

“It was...exhilarating. And glorious,” he admits, slightly choked. And then, because the vulnerability of the baths seems to demand it, “and terrifying.”

Asterius chuckles, a rare sound indeed. “It should be some time before the short one appears again. Should we take to the arena and fight, or rest?”

Theseus yawns, feeling melancholy well within him once again. One final memory bubbles to the top of his mind, seeming almost like a dream now, with everything that happened since. “Rest, I think, my friend... My wine’s been taken from me.”

“What’s that?”

“Oh--nothing.”

Asterius pauses, then shrugs--bless his incurious side. “Then let me carry you to bed, king, and we shall rest.”

To Theseus that sounds very nice, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> -Thanks again to @darkmodeproxy for helping me figure some stuff out--Theseus was getting so wrought up at the end there that I had to consult with someone on what to do about it, haha!  
> -Strictly fucky Thesezag is fun, but once I've knocked out all the stuff I can think of for this series, I'm excited to try different takes on them! Their dynamic is just as fun when you throw it against the wall that is Romance. (Also though I have at least two more fics of this in me, one of which is just...insanely self-indulgent, so we'll get there when we get there.)  
> -Anyway, I'll write the dating sim if someone else will do the programming. Get at me. I cannot get enough of writing Theseus he is TOO FUN.  
> -Meg didn't know that last bit was going to happen because I ALSO did not know it was going to happen but I enjoyed it very much.  
> -I promise I love Than too, he just seems like the least kinky of the bunch to me. If I had it in me to write everyone into this scene, I would have, but a fivesome seems like a lot. Then again, this fic started off as a joke I said I would "never write" so we'll just have to see I guess. Than and Theseus in the same sex scene would be objectively hilarious.  
> -"Gia paradeigma" is (google translated) greek for "for example". I was going to use "e.g." and then I was like "wait lol they're greek"--as though my record with historical accuracy here were anything but slipshod--but I personally find it funny so it stays in, such is life.
> 
> (today's final joke quote comes from @noblewildwood on twitter, thank you noble  
> meg: aftercare, boys  
> zag and theseus: ew no he has cooties  
> meg:  
> meg: HES PUT HIS WHOLE DICK IN YOU)


End file.
